


Fixierung

by AreYouReady



Category: Call for the Dead - John le Carré, LE CARRE John - Works
Genre: (in that the main character is fantasizing in public), Bratting, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, George Is OOC Because He's Not Really George He's An Idea Of George, I Feel Like At This Point I Should Disclaim That My George/Dieter Fic Is In General, M/M, More Accurately Categorized As Fic For The 2008 Radio Play Than The Book, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Fantasy, Spanking, Teacher Crush, but oh well, giftfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:55:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26249062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AreYouReady/pseuds/AreYouReady
Summary: Dieter Frey fantasizes in class.
Relationships: (technically a one sided crush), Dieter Frey/George Smiley
Kudos: 6





	Fixierung

**Author's Note:**

  * For [peternurphy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/peternurphy/gifts).



> happy birthday bitch, luv uuuuuuu, when covidtimes end i'm going to make us an entire PITCHER of that aperol/cherry juice/coke cocktail but for now take this

Dieter could feel the grease in his hair. He had not had time to wash it the night before. He kept running his hands through it over and over again, knowing he was making it worse, but unable to stop himself. 

Insufficient sleep had always served to heighten the small discomforts of everyday life. The injudicious amount of coffee he’d consumed at breakfast had done nothing except cause his hands to shake and his skin to heat up, making him even more aware of every little unpleasant sensation.

Professor Smiley had shot a few inquiring glances his way. Dieter was ordinarily quite the debater, and Smiley encouraged him, always seemed impressed with what he had to say. But the previous night, Dieter had been up rather late. 

Since he never took alcohol, he was always the last to leave a gathering, never getting so drunk that his body forced him home. He’d stayed up until after dawn, talking politics with an attractive youth who was the only other person to remain of the little gaggle of students that Dieter had fallen in with after a night at the theater.

Dieter had thought the man was trying to sleep with him, and at about six in the morning had suggested that they might go to bed together, planning to skip all his classes and spend the day sleeping off a satisfying night. But the other student had been disgusted and refused him, storming away, so now Dieter was taking out the resultant frustrations on himself, by forcing himself to go about his day as normal.

Now, he was staring morosely into space in Smiley's lecture, instead of picking fights and playing intellectual games out loud. And Smiley had noticed. Or maybe Dieter only thought he had. 

The (minor, very minor, extremely minor) crush on Smiley he’d been semi-willingly nursing - he thought Smiley was uncommonly sharp, and Dieter liked his very personal brand of intellectual guidance, and also he found the air of gently overpowering authority Smiley projected more than slightly attractive, unfortunately - told him that Smiley  _ was  _ looking at him more than usual, and also that the looks meant Smiley was disappointed.  _ “I expected so much from you,” _ Smiley seemed to say. _ “An intelligent boy like you ought to have a point to make.” _ In his minds eye, Smiley was looming over Dieter's desk. There was a charge in the air. Dieter almost sniffed the air in real life to learn what fantasy Smiley smelled like, but he caught himself at the last minute. The real Smiley was on the other side of the room, looking in the opposite direction.

The real Smiley was saying something that really didn’t matter about the overall spirit of English poetry. Dieter preferred fantasy Smiley, who was now most certainly leaning over him. Looking down at him.

“What is it, professor?” Dieter mouthed the words in real life. 

“Why are you so quiet today, Dieter?” asked Professor Smiley. “Could it be that you were up all night screwing?” Dieter was slightly embarrassed by the bad erotica dialogue, but mostly too deep in the fantasy to care.

“Professor-” this time the words were only in his mind.

“Be quiet, Dieter.” Smiley grabbed Dieter’s tie.

“But Professor, I thought you liked it when I talked in class?” Dieter was no longer mouthing the words, but he could not keep from smirking a bit, and an idle anxiety that someone might see and read his thoughts somehow niggled at the edge of his mind.

“Be quiet, whore,” said Smiley. No, too uninspired. He couldn’t imagine Smiley saying it. Not that Smiley was too likely to say any of the other things he had said so far, but this somehow crossed a line

“Whores don’t have anything to contribute to my class.” Professor Smiley’s hand was fisted around the knot of Dieter’s tie, choking him slightly. Better.

“Are you jealous, Professor?” In real life, Dieter could feel himself blushing, and hid his face with one hand. He looked over at the real Smiley, across the room. Dieter noticed that he was wearing a thick belt.

Smiley’s left hand was on the back of Dieter’s neck, forcing him down onto the desk. With his right, he yanked at the waist of Dieter’s pants, pulling them down so viciously that the button on the front popped off. Dieter instinctively curled his thumb through a belt loop, and wondered how he looked to his classmates. Probably strange.

Smiley’s belt made a satisfying jingling sound as he took it off, like spurs in an American cowboy movie. Dieter wanted to look up at him and give him a shit eating grin, let him know that Dieter was still the victor here, but Smiley was holding him down, and Dieter couldn’t actually turn his neck that far. Dieter was a stickler for realism in some ways, at least. He felt his lips twitch nonetheless, and took a small tuck of skin from his wrist between his incisors to keep himself from showing any other inappropriate reactions. He wondered what Smiley had been lecturing on for the past few minutes.

“I think I know what to do with you.”

The  _ thwack  _ as Smiley smacked Dieter’s ass with the belt echoed around the lecture hall. It was empty, silent, bare of the clutter of students and their low murmurs, and the sound filled it beautifully.  _ Thwack, thwack, thwack.  _ Dieter wriggled, enjoying himself. Someone definitely could have seen that.

“But why, Professor?” Dieter was breathless, but he tried very hard to give his voice an audible pout.

“Because, Dieter.” Smiley was leaning over him, whispering in his ear. He could feel Smiley’s hot breath, feel his lips as they moved. “You came into my class unprepared, and you must face the consequences.”

“Do you punish all of your students like this, Professor? That’s very dedicated of you.” Dieter was rewarded for this with a particularly painful smack across the base of his thighs. He winced, but did not cry out.

“Some,”  _ thwack,  _ “such as yourself,”  _ thwack,  _ “require special attention,”  _ thwack.  _ Dieter imagined that he was probably crisscrossed with red stripes. He shivered slightly, pleased by the image.

“I’m,” Dieter was forced to take in a sharp breath as Smiley hit him again, “flattered that you would give me your  _ special attention,  _ Professor.” Smiley scowled. Wait, no, Dieter still couldn’t see his face. Smiley lessened the pressure on Dieter’s neck slightly, and let Dieter turn to look up at him. He was scowling.

“I am not  _ giving  _ you anything.” Smiley was starting to look slightly flustered. Dieter could see a slight bulge at his crotch.

“You’re giving me a spanking,” Dieter said, fluttering his eyelashes. “Maybe you could give me something else instead.”

“What?” Smiley scowled at him harder. Dieter grabbed at the button on his pants. They were already loose in the absence of his belt, and came down easily. Dieter could see the clear outline of Smiley’s cock through his boxers. Smiley stared at him for a moment, and then raised his eyebrows. “I see. Is that what you’re asking for. Well then, I might just give it to you.”

Smiley shoved Dieter back down on the desk, hard enough that he hit his cheekbone on the hard wood. He heard the sound of Smiley spitting into his hand. Wait, no. Smiley put his hand over Dieter’s mouth.

“Lick,” he ordered, hot breath in Dieter’s ear again. Dieter enthusiastically complied. 

Smiley tasted like… sweat. And a bit of that unidentified smell that sometimes hung around his office, potpourri perhaps. Potpourri mixed with  _ book smell _ and a hint of English cigarettes. And he tasted sharp, like a man Dieter had once slept with just after he had entered university. 

Dieter licked Smiley’s palm until it was dripping wet. Then Smiley took it away.

There was no warning, only sudden pain. It hurt worse than the time Dieter had talked Emil into putting his whole hand inside. But there was pleasure, too, especially as Smiley began to thrust into him. Each impact of Smiley’s thighs against the welts left by Smiley’s belt was electrifying, and at the peak of each thrust he hit the spot inside Dieter that made his nerves sing. Perhaps the most sublimely erotic thing of all was Smiley’s breathing, quick and ragged. His overpowering desire - vicious, lecherous, slightly gross - made Dieter feel like a precious thing. The proof of this desire, in the form of his cock, felt like it was splitting Dieter asunder, in more than just the physical sense.

The hand that held Dieter down began to caress the back of his neck. Smiley’s other hand held his hip, a ruthless, utilitarian grasp giving Smiley absolute control of how exactly he was fucking Dieter. 

Dieter gasped as Smiley began thrusting faster. 

“Is this what you’re looking for when you come into my class?” Smiley growled into his ear.

“Yes, yes! Please, Professor…” Dieter wanted so, so badly… he wanted… 

“Frey, do you have a question?” came a voice from outside the fantasy. Oh. Smiley’s voice. Dieter gasped, this time in shock. He realized that he had been holding his hand up slightly.

“No, Professor.” He barely choked the words out, his throat was so dry. Smiley nodded and turned away again, failing to notice, or perhaps too polite to mention, Dieter’s violent blush.

**Author's Note:**

> God this was fun to write. The complex process of having a good sexual fantasy is an interesting thing to put into words. Also, I am gratified to, after joking about this for three years, finally write a fic where the fact that everyone thinks George is a dom for some reason is actually relevant.


End file.
